Mimzi and Trimzi
The Story of Two Brothers
There once was a brother named Mimzi,
His beard was strong and smart,
The other was called pretty Trimzi,
But the lad was jealous by heart,
Mimzi could throw giant boulders,
They’d break on the walls to gravel,
All would hail the strength of his shoulders,
But Trimzi could only cavil,
Many dwarven lasses would praise,
Mimzi’s witty and brilliant mind,
While Trimzi’s was but a sad haze,
Of thoughts carelessly intertwined,
One day they entered a contest,
To sculpt the grandest bust,
For Mimzi winning was a quest,
For Trimzi it was a must,
Mimzi could carve out his stone,
In statues gracefully polished,
Trimzi was angered to the bone,
For his chisel always demolished,
All were sure Mimzi would win,
And Trimzi was full of nasty hate,
He devised the slaying of his kin,
By hammer would he seal his fate,
He snuck into the crafting hall,
And struck his brother on the head,
Mimzi did not survive at all,
He cried in pain until he was dead,
Now Trimzi stole the statuette,
Carefully wrapped in a veil,
Convinced that he would win without a sweat,
This time he would not fail,
He did not take a look,
No quick peek at the piece,
And so this foolish crook,
Now set himself at ease,
On the morrow the artists came,
Gathering to reveal their works so fair,
But all wondered about one name,
And why he wasn’t there,
One by one the works were revealed,
And put upon a golden shelf,
And so too Trimzi’s was unconcealed,
It was a bust of himself,
And in his hands there was a sign,
It read: “My brother is my life”
Trimzi’s face reddened like wine,
He regretted his personal strife,
The dwarves found out he killed him,
They threw him in his cell,
From then on Trimzi’s life was grim,
That is how he fell.
